


Summer of '97

by Cinna_moon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Endearments, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, Infidelity, Lana The Badass Bike, M/M, Riding, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26410309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinna_moon/pseuds/Cinna_moon
Summary: There's something...odd about Harry's relationship with Ginny, but Harry can't quite tell what he's been doing wrong. Then he gets to spend some time with Sirius and starts realizing where the problem may be. Now if only he could unsee it.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black/Harry Potter
Comments: 33
Kudos: 289





	Summer of '97

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, rain, who did so much for me and this story, I appreciate your rants and consulting so much!! ♥

Harry isn't used to closeness. 

He doesn't know how to offer comfort or even initiate it. He never was offered it in his childhood, a concept Ginny struggles to wrap her head around due to the happy childhood she had. 

Harry isn't cross with her, he could never be. It does, however make their relationship a bit awkward at times and Harry knows from a larger part it's his fault. He never knows whether she wants to be hugged or kissed, or even not touched at all. And when she does hug him, he can't get rid of the feeling he's doing it wrong, all the while wondering if a hug can be wrong in the first place. 

Even though Ron has accepted Harry as his sister's boyfriend, asking him for advice is out of the question. He tried it once but at Ron's startled look promptly glossed over the topic. 

Hermione gives him an odd look when he asks her, but she hugs him, to prove a point, and tells him there's nothing wrong with the way he hugs. Harry dodges her following question when she correctly guesses it's about Ginny. 

Still, he feels out of place the next time Ginny finds him and snuggles up to him. They're in one of the drawing rooms at Grimmauld Place, unexpectedly alone. The noise from the rest of the house is muffled by the door, offering a fleeting sense of privacy. 

Harry's tense. One of his arms is wrapped around her, her head on his chest and some sort of expectation is floating around them. 

They don't talk. They rarely do these days, the threat of war looms over them like a dark shadow. They both know what will happen once the summer ends; the separation, the time for Ginny to go back for her sixth year and for Harry to do what he must. 

The words are futile. 

Ginny snuggles closer to his side, laying her legs across his thighs. Harry wonders whether she feels it too, but it's Ginny, he reminds himself, she would have told him if something was amiss. 

She takes him by the jaw, tilting his head towards her, and kisses him deeply, distracting him from his thoughts. 

△▼

The Weasley's leave Grimmauld Place a week before Harry's birthday in preparation for Bill and Fleur's wedding, and Hermione also leaves to spend time with her parents. It's only Order members coming and going as they please now, and Remus occasionally staying the night. 

And his godfather, of course. 

Harry finds him in the library, a little bleary-eyed, his body relaxed while he's listening to whatever programme is on the wireless. 

"D'you mind?" Harry asks, indicating the empty place next to Sirius on the settee. 

"Hop on," Sirius says, patting the space next to him with a whiskey softened smile. 

Sirius Accioes another tumbler and fills them both with a wink directed at Harry. He passes the tumbler with a symbolic amount of alcohol to him but Harry appreciates it nonetheless. 

He sits next to Sirius, his feet going up immediately while the other man slumps down into the cushions and puts his feet up on the table, assuming his previous position. 

"What are we listening to?"

"Ah," Sirius chuckles. "It's a show in which twenty witches and wizards were sent to live in Toscano and are supposed to tend to the vineyards for a whole month. There's one episode every evening."

Harry glances at him from the side, one eyebrow raised, and bursts into laughter. 

"What?" Sirius scoffs. 

"I never pegged you as a soap-opera lover." 

Sirius sends him an offended look. "Oi, shut it. Just wait for it."

They sit next to each other in a comfortable silence. After a few minutes of listening, it's clear that the show has very little to do with wine-making and more to do with who sleeps with whom. In spite of that fact, Harry lets himself be sucked into the plot, eager to find out whether Marielle accepts Lennox's proposal or chooses Amelia's instead. 

"What?!" Harry fumes when the show's cut off before Marielle gives her answer. 

Sirius throws his head back and laughs at Harry's wide-eyed expression, and asks teasingly, "Who's the soap-opera lover now, hm?"

Harry glares at him in response and stretches his legs, noticing he's gotten pleasantly tired. He stands up slowly. 

"Think I'm going to turn in for the night."

"Sure, I may as well," Sirius says, spelling the wireless off and standing too. "Good night, Harry." He says and ruffles his godson's hair good-naturedly, tugging him into an embrace. 

Harry hugs him back and allows himself a few inhales of Sirius' spicy cologne before he too wishes him a good night and leaves the room. 

Going up the stairs, he ponders why hugging Sirius has always felt this natural. 

▼△

The next day Sirius is being kept busy by Remus, so Harry finds himself doing blissfully nothing. Hermione's forbidden him to think about anything even remotely related to war for the week so he sleeps in and spends his afternoon browsing through the letters that Sirius exchanged with Harry's dad. 

His eyes roam the parchment eagerly, misting at some paragraphs, narrowing in laughter at others. 

That evening, they meet in the library again, sitting a tad closer than the previous night, but Harry might just be imagining it. Sirius doesn't seem to care so Harry doesn't either. 

It's easy, being around Sirius. He doesn't have to be the Saviour or the Chosen One, or pretend he knows what he's doing at all times. He can be just Harry and Sirius looks happy enough to just sit with the wireless on, imitating Susan's squeaky laughter and Joseph's snobbish manners. 

The show ends and they both stay sitting, the chilling air in the house perfect for the hot, July nights. 

Harry wants to close his eyes and stay like that forever. 

Sirius breaks the silence first, bending his leg and propping his head on his knee, turning towards Harry. 

"How are the things going with Ginny?"

His eyes are perfectly clear, reflecting the colour of the sky after the sun is set and the darkness is about to claim the world, but _not yet_. 

"Uh, er- good," Harry stammers. He feels himself blushing at the sly look Sirius is sending his way, so he quickly turns the question back at him before Sirius can inquire about more details. Or before he gets lost in those eyes. 

"Are _you_ seeing someone?" 

"In this bloody prison? Only my ancestors' portraits… though it wouldn't be the most fucked up thing in this family, actually," Sirius says, spitting the word family with distaste. 

"Do you, um, want to?" Harry scratches behind his back. "I mean – not the portraits. Someone else." 

Sirius is queer. He told Harry last summer, making him feel proud and even honoured that he'd decided to share such personal information with him since Remus says Sirius has become more guarded ever since Azkaban. Harry told him he might be too, but he hasn't had time to inspect it further. 

Harry has also noticed the difference between the way he talks to Remus - still with the remnants of respect for his favourite ex-teacher - to the way he talks to Sirius - with easiness, almost on a peer-like level. 

"No," Sirius says after a long while that Harry nearly forgets what they were talking about. "It would end in disappointment and I'd rather avoid that."

"You wouldn't. Be disappointing," Harry tells him and immediately berates himself for blurting it out like that. Sirius only shakes his head. 

They part with a hug, Harry not rushing to end it seeing that there's no awkwardness to it. 

The next night Remus joins them, giving Sirius crap for listening to _Toscalove_ , but being almost instantly captured by the drama as well as Harry was, if only to ridicule it with sarcastic comments afterward. 

Harry leaves for bed early, giving the men space to talk, even though they didn't express such a desire. 

He pauses at the threshold, turning, and coming back to Sirius for their good-night hug. 

Sirius chuckles and embraces Harry tightly. Harry buries his head in his neck so he doesn't have to look at Remus, suddenly feeling like a three year old scared of the monster under his bed. 

The hug feels good, however. 

"Good night, sweetheart," Sirius whispers into his hair and Harry takes it as his cue to leave lest he embarrass himself more.

△▼

Thursday is his birthday and it nearly slips his mind. Sirius wakes him up by jumping on his bed, bringing pancakes because, _"it should be law to start one's birthday with pancakes in bed"_ , and Harry doesn't protest. 

"So how would you like to spend your day?"

"Oh," Harry breathes. "I dunno."

It hits him then, that this is the first time he's not locked at the Dursleys' and he can spend his birthday however he likes. Despite this revelation, he has no idea how he'd like to spend his day. 

Sirius' eyes narrow and something sad passes over his face but it's quickly covered up by a smile. 

"All right. Leave it up to me." 

He takes something out of his pocket and with "Now open your first gift," hands it to Harry. He looks as excited as if it was him receiving a gift. His cheerfulness is contagious. 

Harry unfastens the ribbon and opens the box, a gasp leaving his lips. 

"Sirius, it's -" 

He's stunned. Inside the box is a silver ring, similar to one Sirius wears on his left pointer finger, but this one's a bit more delicate. Its rhunic engravings resemble the ones on Sirius' collarbone and between the lines are tiny black and green crystals that reflect the light. 

"It's, ah, a wizarding tradition," Sirius says, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Every wizard receives one as a symbol he's become a man. I've got mine from James'- " his voice cracks- "parents for my eighteenth birthday."

Harry's eyes prickle but he blinks it away and Sirius continues. 

"I figured you should get it now. I've had some protection runes put into it. And the crystals are your birthstones." 

"Sirius I– thank you," Harry croaks, overwhelmed by emotions. He puts it on the same finger as Sirius has his own and looks into his godfather's sincere face. 

He'd really like to hug him, yet he feels unsure about initiating it. Sirius, thankfully, seems to guess his wish because in the next moment he's pulling Harry closer. Sirius shifts around a little so Harry can lean into him more comfortably and then whispers, "Do you like it?" and Harry can only nod into his shoulder, breathing in the calming smell of Sirius' hair. 

"I love it," Harry tells him once they pull away and he has his voice back. Sirius beams at him, his eyes sparkling and it strikes Harry then, how much healthier and younger his godfather looks, the hollowness that marked his face after Azkaban now, after three years, completely gone. 

Harry beams back at him. 

▼△

Despite the limited options they have, Sirius makes Harry's day as special as he's able to. They play wizarding board games, Sirius teaches him how to play Red Hot Chili Peppers on his acoustic guitar – not that Harry's any good at it but he likes to listen to Sirius play. 

Ron and Ginny fire-call Harry to wish him a happy birthday and to pass on the wishes from the rest of the family. They talk for a bit, the two siblings sharing stories about how the twins are making Mrs. Weasley go crazy, especially now since there's added stress caused by the upcoming wedding. 

They don't talk for long, reminding Harry he'll receive gifts from them in two days. Later in the day, he receives an owl from Hermione as well as from Luna, who sends him a wreath with some red flowers for happiness that he hangs in the library. 

Sirius gives him other gifts, carelessly waving off all of Harry's protests of the ring being plenty enough. There's a new broom kit, two sets of robes, regular clothes, deluxe editions of Queen vinyls, that Sirius admits are a gift for both of them, but mainly to set Harry on a path of appreciating good music. 

What Harry likes the best, though, is the last gift - a black leather jacket. It's not like the one Sirius has, whose dark brown leather is softened by the years and much simpler in its design. This one's dark as night, adorned with pins and rivets on the collar and fake zippers on the sleeves. 

"You don't have to wear it," Sirius assures him but Harry rolls his eyes at him and tries it on. 

"Well?" he asks when Sirius's gone quiet for too long, just staring at him with a fixed gaze and slack jaw. "I look ridiculous, don't I?"

"No, Harry, you look," he clears his throat, "-good." 

Licking his lips, he grins at Harry and conjures a mirror so Harry can see himself. And indeed, he looks good. He can't quite describe it, but the jacket makes him feel powerful in a way. 

Harry turns to Sirius, catching a sliver of some intense emotion passing over Sirius' face, but it's gone too quickly.

"We should go for a ride."

Sirius breaks into a cough and looks away, busying himself with cleaning the wrapper. 

"It's not safe."

"Since when has that stopped you from anything?" Harry asks teasingly, stroking the leather with his fingers. The pins are cool to the touch in contrast to the warm material. 

Sirius mutters something under his breath, too quiet for Harry to catch but eventually agrees after a well timed reminder it's still Harry's birthday. 

They have pizza for dinner and once it's too dark to be spotted, Sirius takes his bike outside. She's shiny with red flame stickers on the sides. Sirius traces his palm lovingly across her before starting her up. 

Harry gets on behind Sirius, their leather jackets making a distinctive sound when Harry wraps his hands around the older man. 

From behind his shoulder Sirius yells, "Hold tight, Lana's a beast!" and they're in the air, under disillusionment charm, flying through London. 

Above the Thames, Sirius makes a spin and Harry laughs, both from the unexpectedness of it and the adrenaline running through his whole being. 

It's different than riding a broom; for one he's not the one controlling where they go and he can focus more on the actual experience, and also, Sirius' riding is as reckless as it's freeing, making Harry's belly light with joy. 

They land, both flushed from the wind, wearing the same goofy smiles. 

"That was fucking incredible," Harry says. 

"I would be offended if it wasn't."

They end up in the library again, which Harry's began to think of as their place. They missed today's episode of _Toscalove_ but Sirius has the record player on and Harry's beginning to understand why the other man loves Queen so much. 

"To–" Sirius holds the wine glass in front of him but Harry beats him to a toast. 

"To more days like this."

They clink their glasses together. 

△▼

It's many hours later when Harry shifts and blinks into the dimly lit room, stumbling into the loo to empty his bladder. 

Already half-asleep, he walks back into the library and assumes his previous position. 

"Harr'? Merlin's tits, didn't mean to fall asleep." 

Harry grunts and his cushion quietens, enveloping him in warmness. 

▼△

The next time Harry wakes up, he's well-rested and comfortable and horrified when he registers he's splayed all over Sirius, their legs tangled, and his morning wood poking Sirius' hip. Some time in the night they must have changed position, with Harry ending on top. 

They only had that one glass of champagne but Harry must have nodded off quickly after. Careful as to not wake his godfather, he jumps up, has a quick cold shower and goes to the kitchen to brew some strong coffee. 

He sits at the table with a steaming cup and replays the day before, the happiness he felt that managed to last for the whole day. And he knows, it's all thanks to his godfather. 

He thinks of Ginny and can't help but compare the time he's spent with her to yesterday. Immediately, he feels ashamed for his thoughts going there. Ginny is his girlfriend and Sirius is his _godfather_ , for Merlin’s sake. 

But no matter how many times he reminds himself, his mind supplies him with pictures of Sirius' handsome face and the way he looked yesterday on his bike, or holding a guitar and humming a tune. 

What's worse though, is the feeling of longing that's burning deep in his chest, swallowing him from the inside. 

He can hear steps from behind him and he tenses up immediately, holding his breath. 

"Good morning," Remus says as he enters the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee. 

Harry relaxes, bowing his head down over his own cup. 

"Mornin'," he mutters. 

He's afraid Remus would somehow read what he's been thinking moments prior, just from one look at his face. 

"You're unusually quiet," Remus observes after a couple of minutes spent in dull silence. Harry shrugs and chances a look at him. The werewolf's face radiates tiredness with dark circles under his eyes, which are, as always, full of calm intelligence. 

"Bad night?" Harry asks, knowing the full moon has been almost more than two weeks ago, therefore it has to do with whatever task he's been put on. 

"Yes. The stake out I'm on is... demanding."

Harry nods, knowing it's all Remus is able to tell him. He tries not to think of how Sirius would find a way to share more with him. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry blurts out, smacking himself internally for not keeping his mouth shut. 

"Of course, Harry, anytime."

The young man hesitates, forming the question several times in his head in order not to say something even more dumb. Like accidentally admitting he's attracted to his own godfather. Because, Merlin, he is, but it's more than lust which, somehow, makes it even worse. 

"How do you know what's the right thing to do?"

Remus gazes at him, taking a long sip of his coffee before he answers. "I believe we know what the right thing to do is in our hearts, Harry."

Harry mulls over those words for the rest of the day, eventually deciding it's a rubbish advice as what his heart is suggesting clearly can't be right. 

He enters the library, that evening, determined to forget all about today's turmoil. 

"Tea?" Sirius asks him and Harry accepts a cup, glad it's not any alcohol. Having fallen asleep next to him was enough. He doesn't want to deal with the outcome once more. 

With a swish of his wand, the wireless is on and Sirius turns to him. "Do you think Lennox will finally grow some balls today?" 

Harry grins. "More likely Amelia will."

The show ends and Harry is standing to turn in for the night but then Sirius finds a The Cure vinyl and Harry tells himself he's staying because Sirius looks a bit melancholic. 

"I wanted to go to their concert," Sirius admits quietly. "I wanted to go to many concerts."

And Harry tells him, "We can still go," because he hates this particular tone of his godfather's voice that's devoid of all emotions. He knows Sirius doesn't only refer to the concerts he's missed. 

Sirius smiles at him and the warmness reaches his eyes, waking that longing feeling inside of Harry's chest that he's half-convinced himself wasn't existing anymore. He's screwed. 

Sirius looks at him like he's something precious, as if he thinks there's a person behind his famous scar and Harry's mouth is suddenly dry, his breath quickening. Remus' words flash through his mind and that's when his resolve crumbles. 

He leans in, and before his brain can start properly working and change his mind, he presses his lips to Sirius'. 

He can feel Sirius freeze up against him but Harry gives him no time to react. He sucks on his bottom lip and only when he opens his mouth wider can he feel Sirius' lips start moving against his in a scorching kiss. 

Harry all but climbs into Sirius' lap not daring to break the kiss. Sirius snakes his hand behind Harry's neck, bringing him closer, making him moan with a touch of his tongue to his bottom lip. 

Harry's already so hard in his pants, just from the kissing, and he can feel a growing erection nudging his bottom. He tries rocking his hips and receives a groan from Sirius that makes him incredibly pleased. 

His smug grin gets wiped off by Sirius' next words and his hands on Harry's hips, stilling him. 

"No, Harry, stop."

"What?"

"We can't."

"We... can't," Harry repeats dully, processing the words much slower thanks to the lust running through his veins, fogging his mind. 

He doesn't ask why. Ginny's face swimming in front of his eyes reminds him of all the reasons why not very well. He hates to imagine how she'd react if she saw him now, or what Ron would do to him for breaking his sister's heart. 

Remus told him to do what feels right in his heart but how can the right thing feel so wrong? 

He's ashamed of what he let himself do, of what he _still_ wants to do. 

Slumping forward defeatedly, pressing their foreheads together, he closes his eyes. 

"Sirius...," he whispers brokenly. 

"We can't," the other man repeats like a mantra. 

"I know."

"It wouldn't be right," Sirius says and Harry's chest gives a painful squeeze. The laughter that follows is ugly. 

"It doesn't feel wrong here," Harry says, taking Sirius' hand from his hip and lays it over his rapidly beating heart. He takes his other hand and lays it on top of his head. "Only here."

Sirius' look is troubled. "Oh, sweetheart."

"I would never-" Sirius begins to reassure him but Harry's finger on his mouth silences him. 

"I know."

The hand that was on top of his head slid lower to his nape and Harry, so captivated by Sirius' eyes didn't even notice, but now his thumb has started doing circular motions and although Harry's sure it's not supposed to feel so sensual, it makes his whole body shudder. 

Harry wants him. He never wanted anything for himself, with the exception of having his parents, and since he can't have them, his consciousness screams at him to be selfish this one time. 

So he is. 

He captures Sirius' mouth again in a bruising kiss that's full of tongue and teeth and that fluttering feeling in his lower belly. They kiss like it's the last time. 

"Please, Sirius..." Harry begs between kisses, not really sure what he's asking for. 

"Merlin, you'll be - _are_ \- the death of me." The other man growls, but seems to understand what Harry wants for he cups Harry's arse with both hands and squeezes. 

They start rocking together, Harry sliding backwards which brings his erection flush against Sirius'. The pleasure is so unexpected he breaks the kiss on a loud moan. 

He looks down on the prominent bulge in Sirius' pants and slowing his hips down, he watches his own tented trousers slide over Sirius' cock, entranced by the motion. He licks his lips. 

"May I?"

"Are you sure, Harry? You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I want to," Harry says simply and proceeds to unbutton his godfather's pants, pulling them down enough to free his cock. 

At the first touch of Harry's hand, Sirius hisses and lets his head fall onto the headrest, throwing an arm over his eyes. His prick is a bit longer than Harry's with a reddened head and holding it in hand feels utterly surreal. 

Harry conjures a small amount of lube into his palm and spreads it all over the silky skin and, ignoring his own throbbing cock, starts to wank him. 

"C'mere," Sirius tells him and snogs Harry stupid to the point where Harry's rhythm on his cock falters and he's just holding it in a loose fist, gasping for breath. He's never been kissed so thoroughly. 

Sirius resumes squeezing his arse and Harry arches against his hands, wanting to feel Sirius' hands on his bare skin.

"Touch me," he whines. 

"Anything you want, sweetheart," Sirius whispers into his ear, giving it a lick. His voice is as wrecked as Harry feels. "Anything at all." And Harry's positive he's trying to ruin him but his mind tells him he's already ruined before it completely shuts off. 

As his hands slide into Harry's pants, kneading his arse cheeks, Harry lets out a soft exhale and wandlessly vanishes his pants along with his underwear. Sirius chuckles, stroking his palms along Harry's naked skin. It's just a touch of calloused hands on his arse but it sends a shot of arousal straight to his cock. 

"Oh fuck," Harry groans as one of Sirius' fingers brushes over his hole and he spreads his legs wider. "Sirius..."

"What do you want, baby?" The endearment breaks Harry's heart who shuts his eyes tight and hides his face in the crook of Sirius' neck. His cologne is stronger here and Harry fears it will always remind him of this vulnerable feeling that he can lose everything that he's ever wanted. 

"Give me your fingers." His voice sounds too breathy and desperate even to his own ears. He has done this to himself a few times so he knows what to expect but now it's absolutely essential Sirius gets his fingers inside him. 

Sirius' chest under him expands in a deep breath. With one hand he strokes Harry's back under the shirt, the other withdrawing from his arse cheek and coming back with one slicked finger that circles his hole. Harry sucks on Sirius' neck and whines into his skin as the finger breaches him, sliding in, pulling out and sliding in a bit more.

Harry starts rocking along the finger, his vision blurring from pleasure at the touch of Sirius' bare cock against his own. 

Sirius adds a second finger, slowly pushing into Harry with more slick and Harry muffles his groans. 

"So tight," Sirius says with wonder, Harry's only answer being a moan and the push of his arse against the fingers. 

"Fuck me," Harry says suddenly, surprising even himself. Once it's out of his mouth, he knows it's what he wants because there's that fear at the back of his mind telling him that Sirius may go back to being only his godfather and he loses this intimacy. 

Lifting his head, Harry repeats more surely, looking the other man dead in the eye. "Fuck me, Sirius."

The older man closes his eyes, visibly fighting with himself. 

"You're ruining me, Harry."

"Then we're even," he replies and clutches around the fingers. 

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

Harry considers the questions but something about this position with him on top sounds distinctively intense. 

"No. Like this." 

The third finger burns, making Harry aware of what they're going to do but Sirius kisses the side of his face he can reach to ease the discomfort. Sirius is in no hurry, fingering him carefully and playing with his hole but at Harry's "wanna feel you inside of me" he curses and withdraws completely. Harry doesn't know how he's become so bold. 

They push Sirius' pants out of the way, not bothering with their shirts. Sirius casts the needed spells and conjures some more lube, spreading it all over his swollen cock, giving it a few strokes before he orders Harry to lift up. 

"We'll go slow," Sirius says softly.

He holds his cock for Harry as he's sinking onto it and when the tip slides in, Harry almost changes his mind, the pain making him feel like he's being torn in two. He clutches his teeth and continues. 

"It will go away in a minute. You're doing well, baby."

Harry nods, his cheeks warming up from the praise and that word again. Inch by inch he slides down and pauses once he's hit the hilt. Sirius kisses him, effectively distracting him from the awkward, burning sensation. His glasses dig into his cheek in the process but he ignores it in favour of thrusting his tongue into Sirius' mouth that he's discovering might be the best thing in the world.

Harry rests his hands on Sirius' shoulders for leverage and his fingers digging into the shirt put his new ring on display. At that moment he wants nothing more than to _belong_ to Sirius. 

Once the pain's subdued, he braces his knees on the cushions and lifts himself almost all the way off Sirius' cock, before sinking down and then up again and again, gaining speed.

"Ahh, shit." 

Sirius puts his hands on his hips helping Harry move. He eases down particularly hard and this time it presses Sirius' cock against some spot inside him that makes him throw his head back and moan shamelessly. 

"Fuuck," he groans and tries to find that spot again, fucking himself hard on Sirius' prick. 

"Ah, you feel perfect," Sirius pants with lust-blown eyes. 

The fact they still have their shirts on only adds to the wrongness of this whole thing, reminding Harry why they can't do this properly naked, like lovers. 

"Look at me, Harry," Sirius says, an edge of possessiveness creeping into his voice that warms Harry's insides. Harry meets his eyes, lets all his longing pour out of him and then leans in for a sloppy kiss. 

All too soon, Harry can feel his orgasm building up and his thighs start burning from the strain. Sirius grips his hips tighter and starts thrusting into Harry with new vigour. Harry collapses against his chest, moaning as Sirius manages to find his spot on almost every deep thrust, making Harry high on pleasure. 

"Don't stop." Harry starts wanking himself, the angle too awkward, but it only takes a few strokes before he's spilling himself into his fist and on Sirius' shirt. His vision blacks out and he becomes boneless against Sirius whose pace picks up on furiousness. He clutches Harry's hips painfully and Harry loves the pain, loves to hear Sirius' grunts in his ears. 

Harry squeezes around his godfather's cock and Sirius curses, spilling his seed deep into Harry, fucking him through his orgasm. 

They are quiet, after. Harry's too sated to move, even though he knows he ought to. When Sirius whispers "Bed?" Harry can only nod, letting the other man clean him and manhandle him out of the room. 

He falls asleep with Sirius' arms wrapped around his chest from behind. He's never felt safer in his life, or more guilty. 

△▼

They get dressed in the morning, Harry into his new robes and Sirius in a simple white dress shirt that makes Harry's blood boil. 

They can't look each other in the eye. 

They speak in short sentences. 

Harry's sore. 

It's almost nine and they promised Mrs. Weasley to be there early even though the wedding doesn't start until noon. Harry has a fistful of Floo powder, ready to step into the fireplace when Sirius' hand around his wrist halts him. 

"Harry, wait..."

He turns to Sirius. 

"I'm sorry for... We shouldn't have-" He trails off. 

Harry can't bear the guilty look on the other man’s face. "I'm sorry too. I don't regret it though."

Sirius nods, once, and they eye each other. 

It's true what Harry said, that he doesn't regret it. But the guilt of cheating on Ginny pierces his insides, because he knows he hasn't only sabotaged his relationship but also Ron's friendship and he's certain Hermione will be disappointed in him. 

Sirius steps closer to either give him a kiss or embrace him but now that Harry knows how good his touch can feel, he steps back. Just one kiss and Harry knows he would be doomed. 

"See you there," he says and throws in the Floo powder. 

As Ginny hugs him, he realizes, not with a pleasant feeling, it has never been about the way he hugs but about _whom_ he hugs. And when he sees Sirius step out of the Floo, all handsome and cheerful, he's determined to make things right. Because he's already doomed. 


End file.
